Nydia's POV
Our wedding was set for next month.
I guess that was exactly how he planned it—to let the world see me as a bride with a baby bump.
Just then, a message popped up from my manager. She’d successfully arranged for me to pay off the breach-of-contract penalty in installments.
I let out a bitter laugh.
There was no one left behind me now. No family. No support.
That night, Blake quietly lay down beside me, his hand gently resting on my belly from behind.
"You and the baby okay?"
“Yeah.”
My voice was cold and distant.
He seemed surprised by my tone, caught off guard.
“Blake, do you still plan on marrying me?” I asked flatly.
He didn’t even hesitate to answer, “Of course.”
But before the moment could settle, Polly’s custom ringtone filled the room.
His hand immediately pulled away from my belly and answered it.
“Blake, please don’t leave me,” she sobbed on the other end of the line. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be alone…”
“Polly, don’t cry. I’m here, okay? I’m coming to you now.”
After saying that, he hung up and looked back at me.
“You heard her. She needs me right now. Try not to overthink, Nydia. I’ll give you everything I promised. Just take care of yourself.”
Maybe it was guilt that made him sound gentle.
Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out.
Turned out, it was not the ones who cry who get the sweet things in life. It's the ones who were truly loved.
I scanned the room around me.
Dozens of sticky notes lined the walls, all written by Blake. Sweet messages. Thoughtful reminders. Words of love.
Hours later, Polly posted a photo of Blake in the kitchen, cooking for her.
One word from her, and he’d cross the entire city just to please her. He remembered every single thing she liked.
And what did he want from me?
To be mature. To be understanding.
I was. I tried. But no matter how good I was, I never got the sweetness she did.
I tore all the sticky notes off the wall, shredding them into tiny pieces. But the glue clung to my skin and irritated my healing wounds.
The next morning, just as I was taking down our photo, I heard the door unlock.
It was Polly.
“Well, well,” she sneered, “I was wondering who this ugly mess was. Nydia, right? Look at you now. What do you even have left to compete with me?”
She didn’t bother sugarcoating anything.
“Do you need something?”
My tone was flat and emotionless.
“Oh, Nydia. I only came to take care of you,” she said with mock concern. “But if my presence is really that upsetting, I can leave. I don’t want to disrupt your life with Blake.”
Her voice then began to crack as she teared up.
Right then, I knew she was performing again for Blake.
She then stepped close and jabbed her sharp fingernail straight toward my belly.
So, instinctively, I pushed her away.
As such, she stumbled backward, knocking into the table. A glass then fell and shattered across the floor.
One shard cut into her leg, another grazed her arm.
Eyes brimming with tears, she screamed, “Polly!”
Hearing that, Blake dropped his bag and rushed straight to her side.
“I’m okay, Blake,” she said through her tears, playing the martyr. “As long as Nydia feels better, that’s what matters. Please, don’t be mad at her.”
The moment a single tear slid down her cheek, Blake exploded.
“Nydia! We’ve been patient with you because you’re pregnant, but this is too much! Can’t you let Polly live in peace?”
His face darkened, and his finger pointed at me like I was some kind of criminal.
“Blake, it’s my fault,” Polly said softly, tugging at his sleeve, all innocent and pitiful. “I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have interfered in your lives. Please don’t blame Nydia. This is all on me.”
“Nydia,” Blake snapped, “stop acting paranoid all the time. If something really was going on between me and Polly, do you think you’d still be standing here? What do you even have to offer anymore?”
